


Second-Yarn and Getting Lied

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Foxtrot [85]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: <i>Any, Any, resigned to always being in the shadow of the main character(s).</i> Evan Lorne has a chat with a drunken Radek Zelenka about being second-string to Team Sheppard and other things. Set in Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second-Yarn and Getting Lied

"How do you stand it?"  
  
Evan drew up short. He paused, processed what he'd taken in on his informal patrol through the halls of Atlantis, and backed up a step to peer into the science lab where Zelenka was huddled in front of his laptop. Evan had thought the man was working.  
  
Apparently the man was incredibly drunk.  
  
Evan stepped into the lab. "How do I stand what?"  
  
"Always being – second-yarn. To Sheppard and McKay and the glory that is Team Sheppard." Zelenka made a vague gesture that was probably meant to encompass the apostrophic Sheppard and his team.  
  
"I think you mean second-string," Evan said carefully. "And I'm Colonel Sheppard's XO. It's my job to support him in the execution of his orders and the running of Atlantis."  
  
"But – but you're brave, and handsome, and a good soldier. You go through the gate and get shot at and save people. But no one talks about you, do they? At the SGC. Sheppard is the hero of Atlantis. Like Rodney McKay is the only scientist in all of Atlantis." Zelenka blinked at him earnestly from behind glasses that were askew. His hair was even wilder than usual. His breath reeked of alcohol.  
  
Evan stepped closer, ready to steady the man if his balance took a turn for the worst. "It's not my job to be the hero of Atlantis," he said. "It's my job to make sure Atlantis runs smoothly."  
  
"And you do that," Zelenka cried. "You make sure we – we have coffee and music and movies and enough toilet paper."  
  
"Well, yes, that's my job." Talking to drunk people was like talking to toddlers. A lot of repetition.  
  
"But nobody ever says thank you."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
"Then what is the point?"  
  
"To serve my country by protecting this city and its denizens as best as I can."  
  
Zelenka peered at him. "Are you human? I think you are robot."  
  
Evan laughed. "I promise, I'm human. They check every time we come back from off world, remember? Every time we come through the gate."  
  
"But you remember birthdays and anniversaries and things like my favorite coffee, or those red bean candies for Kusanagi. Surely that is not part of your job as XO." Zelenka peered closer and almost fell off his chair.  
  
Evan steadied him with one hand. "As XO, I make sure this city runs the best it can. It runs better when the people in it are happier."  
  
Zelenka muttered something in Czech, gripped Evan's forearm a little too tightly to right himself on his chair. "You're serious, aren't you?"  
  
"I am."  
  
"You're happy with no one realizing all you do."  
  
"I'm not doing my job well if my job gets a lot of attention. If things are going smoothly, no one notices them happening. That's kind of the whole point."  
  
"I think," Zelenka said, "you do so well at your job because you have so much time on your hands. Because you are not getting lied." He poked Evan in the chest.  
  
Evan smothered a laugh. "I think you mean 'laid', and whether or not I'm getting laid is no one's business but mine and my partner's."  
  
"So you _are_ getting 'laid'."  
  
"I cannot confirm or deny." Evan hauled Zelenka to his feet. "Let's get you back to your quarters."  
  
"Is that an offer to get laid with me?"  
  
"No, doc, you're not my type." Together, they stumbled down the corridor.  
  
"What is your type?"  
  
"Why, so it's all over Atlantis in the morning?"  
  
Zelenka made a zipping motion near his chin. "I keep secrets. I am very discreet."  
  
"I'm sure you are," Evan said. Truth was, Zelenka was almost his type. Messy-haired. Brilliant. Slender. Not exactly a budding mathematician who tasted like Bailey's, and certainly not close enough that Evan would even consider tumbling Zelenka for one night of fun. But Evan's type was out of reach as long as he wanted to keep his wings.  
  
He managed to wrangle Zelenka into his quarters and get him seated on the edge of his bed with a glass of water before he departed. He'd have someone from the science department check on Zelenka in the morning.  
  
Till then, he had a birthday cake to bake.


End file.
